“I- I think I’m going to cum!” you scream, while the woman sympathetically smiles at you.

People on the street stop to stare at you for your exclamation for a few moments. One pulls out a phone, and you hope they are dialing the police as they should be, but then with a flash you realize they’re snapping pictures. Most of them just wolf whistle at you or look enviously at the man before casually walking away. Some teenage girls in tank tops also begin unconsciously rubbing each other’s breasts and clits. A few college boys wait behind the man as if getting in line to feel you up. Normally, you’d be greatly offended by this, but you’re so desperately horny right now that you can’t bring yourself to care.

The man pays them no heed, and only smirks before slowly pulling his finger out of your pussy, leaving you on the brink of orgasming. You softly whimper.

The woman gasps. “Don’t be cruel now!” she says towards the man. Then, turning towards you, “It’s okay dear, if he isn’t willing to finish the job those college boys look ready to fill in!”

“N-No ” you softly moan. “You can’t do that!”

“I’d be willing to!” one of the college boys shout.

The man has other plans though. He stays behind you, and starts kneading your breasts with his hands, at first softly massaging them. You inhale, hating how he’s teasing you when you need him inside you. He starts becoming more rough in playing with your breasts though, flicking and pinching your nipples until they’re rock hard. More people whistle at your clearly-visible nipples against your shirt, and you regret your choice of outfit today.

You are done with all of this. “If you’re going to continue to be this way,” you say shakily, “I’m leaving!”

“I’m sorry,” the woman says, juices now leaking down her legs from when she has discarded her pants. “He’s too strong for you to break from.”

His hands do move further down though, tantalizing you as he traces patterns on your skin under your top. His fingers slowly slide from the valley between your breasts to your inner thigh. He starts rubbing your inner thigh, so close to your clit. You moan in frustration.

You start struggling against him, but he has you locked in place. Finally, after a couple of minutes of useless squirming, you resign to ripping off your shirt to rub your breasts before pushing your fingers to your clit to finally reach your orgasm. Before you barely start however, the man pushes down his pants and boxers. Then, he shoves his dick into you.

Waves of pleasure ride over you, and stars seem to appear in your vision. This is what reaching nirvana must be like. But then something else happens when the man is sliding his length in and out of you while you move your hips to meet his thrusts. You can actually see the waves of pleasure around yourself, ensnaring you. Strings of desire are all connected to you and everybody else in the world. This must be your wish, you think.

But with each thrust into you, many of the threads of longing connected to you are unraveling. You realize these are the threads to the man, the woman, the few college boys jerking themselves off, and the teenage girls still sliding their hands all over their bodies watching you. Fucking them or being near them while they engage in sexual activity must be undoing the effect you have on them. By fulfilling their desires, their threads of desire no longer exist.

Also, the loosening of the strings of these few people are also causing other nearby strings to be weakened. If you fuck enough people, you might be free from this curse!

The threads of fate (literally) fade away from your vision, as you near the end of your orgasm, meaning you can only see them at times of immense pleasure. With a grunt, the man pushes in one more time before promptly turning you around and forcing you to kneel before spraying his load over you.

Your breasts are soon coated in cum, and you open your mouth to catch strings of cum, hoping that the more arousing it is, the more threads you can break between you and passers by. You close your eyes as he messily comes over your face, some goo landing in your hair. Finally, it ends.

You open your eyes and the man, woman, college boys, and high school girls are in a daze. Their threads to you must have been broken by now. Then, the woman notices you and gasps.

You look at her curiously. Wasn’t she just masturbating to you getting molested with no concern whatsoever?

It dawns on you — she has no recollection of your fuck with the man at all. The man is also looking at you warily, the other observers being long gone as well. So every time a thread is cut, the experience is cut from their memories as well.

You shake off the woman, smiling seductively at a few people leering at you as they walk down the street, hoping to influence the strength of their threads to you. You give them a show, rubbing the cum all over your breasts before dipping your finger in some and sucking the cum off of your finger with a pop of your lips. Even from this distance, you can see bulges in their pants.

Nearby, you also catch the blinding lights of a party in a nearby mansion. People are probably dancing inside, grinding their bodies against each other, caught up in a possibly passionate encounter. By the sound of the many shouts and screams, there’s also a lot of people in the party.

“One hour sale on lingerie!” a women’s clothing stores also says. A line of people stretching for at least a mile are waiting to get inside at noon. With that amount of people and the sexy lingerie you could show off there, there wouldn’t be any hands off of you or privacy for you the whole hour of the sale!

You lick your lips in anticipation, causing many people around you to stare. You have a mission to complete and a curse to break. So where should you head to? Have a sex in the alleyway with the passers by that are staring at you? The party? Or the sale?

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